


Along the Way

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Lemonade Mouth (2011)
Genre: Coda, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 10:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: From the first song to the first kiss, there were so many moments along the way that made Wen and Olivia inevitable. It was a winding journey, but it was worth the destination. (Missing scenes/alternate perspectives/post-canon)





	Along the Way

**Author's Note:**

> I have been procrastinating on posting this one for a while too - largely because it's long and I could never decide whether I wanted to post it all as one piece or in chapters. The episodes vary so much in length, and it reads well all as one thing, so I decided on one piece in the end... it is long though.  
> Notes:  
> 1\. At some point in a long fic that I still haven't finished/posted, I got tired of calling Wen's dad 'Mr. Gifford' all the time and named him. Idk if he has a first name in the books but he doesn't in the movie and I'm calling him Jared.  
> 2\. As noted in my previous fic, I really love horse/farm boy Wen and I made up Zephyr and Butter for this story first. I considered cutting part of the horseback scene for a riding-centric fic, especially since it's the longest episode in this story, but I'm not getting to that fic any time soon, so I've left it. (That scene is also what ultimately inspired Stargazing.)  
> 3\. Unlike with Orbit, I actually did a little research on tour bus layouts for this fic, haha.  
> 4\. I was in the midst of my Letterkenny binge while writing this. I doubt there's much overlap between fandoms, but if you're a LK fan, I'm sure you'll spot the cameo.  
> 5\. I don't mean to write this many fics focusing on Wen's perspective. Apparently I just really like writing him...  
> I think that's everything. I hope you enjoy it - please consider sparing a moment to leave a comment!

Wen wandered into the house and up to his bedroom, tossing his bag to the floor by his desk and flopping onto his bed. Stretching his legs out, folding his hands behind his head, he let his mind wander. He was already starting to feel guilty about getting surly with his dad and, even worse, his sister, just because he was moody about Sydney. Not to mention the guilt over slighting his horse, not that Zephyr was around, or would have understood if he’d heard it. But Wen would much rather think about the day he’d had.

The tune Olivia had sung in detention was still fresh in his mind and repeating itself over and over. He couldn’t believe he’d known her his whole life and never given her much of a closer look. It was, really, because she was so quiet; they had rarely had occasion to talk much. The most he could ever remember interacting with her was on a group project in seventh grade history. He supposed it made sense that he didn’t know she could sing, given her shyness, but he still regretted not knowing until today. Her voice was amazing. He wanted to hear it again. Not that he could really see a chance of that happening, since no one else really seemed on board with the whole starting-a-band idea. He was all for it, but…

What did he even know about Olivia, really? He remembered in elementary school when her mother had passed away. She’d missed a lot of school; the teacher had given their class a gentle-but-firm lecture on how to talk respectfully to her when she came back. They were ten, Ms. Archer had said; they were old enough to be kind. He remembered talking to his own parents about it at the time, too. Three years before his own mother left, they’d had a conversation about death and about appreciating what you had while it was still there. Thinking of it from that angle, he felt a fresh pang of sympathy for Olivia; his mother certainly wasn’t dead, but she was pretty gone from his life now. He saw her maybe twice a year, if he was lucky.

That wasn’t nice to think about. What else was there? He knew she liked English class and wrote good essays. He’d proofread one for her in class a year or so ago. He knew she read a lot and hated math. She lived with her grandmother down near the community centre; he recalled that from that seventh-grade project they’d done. He also knew, quite distinctly, that she had gotten cute sometime in middle school. And he knew that this afternoon that knowledge that she was cute had rapidly expanded into a full-blown attraction, a fact that he was still trying to tamp back down to an ignorable level. He was getting ahead of himself. Just because she was pretty and had the voice of an angel, plus – apparently – spectacular song-writing skills…

God, the elevator. He’d been staring at her back, still marvelling at this side of her he’d never seen nor imagined in the decade he’d known her, when the doors popped open. Snapping back to reality, he’d met her eye by accident, and they’d hurriedly looked away from each other, only to then – awkwardly – take off down the same hall. He felt like he should say something, but in his discomfort, he only held the door for her quickly and then charged past the bike rack she was heading for, leaving in a hurry. He hadn’t known what to say.

He felt bad about that. A bit stupid, too. All of a sudden he really wanted to get to know her better, this girl he’d barely spoken to for so many years. Well, there was no reason he couldn’t try, really. Making friends seemed pretty innocuous. He thought he knew where her locker was; maybe he’d drop by on a break in the next few days and see if he spotted her. He figured he could find a way to start a conversation. Start with chatting in the hallways, see if he could break the ice.

Maybe eventually he’d get a chance to hear that voice again, after all.

-

So his first attempt had been a bit of a bust. He’d startled her badly at her locker on his first try. For future reference, he reminded himself not to sneak up on her. But Stella had asked them all to meet her at Dante’s for pizza, and it had culminated in the beginning of a band. He was excited. Music was something he’d kind of always secretly wanted to pursue beyond his piano lessons, but he hadn’t had a chance or an excuse. Plus, it meant he’d get to hear Olivia sing again, and sooner than he thought.

The first practice was really something. Things were falling apart a bit and he worried it wouldn’t all come together. Then, on impulse, he started playing something different. He looked up at Olivia, hoping she’d be on his wavelength; she definitely was. His stomach flipped a little bit when she launched into another song, clearly something she had written and memorised well before. He could barely look away, and when she came over and danced with him, leaned on his shoulder – his stomach flipped a little more. Oh, he was sunk.

But it was when he went to her house that first time to work on some songs that he really knew he was done for. It wouldn’t occur to him until _much_ later that Stella had had ulterior motives for sending him to write with Olivia.

They found themselves almost nose-to-nose after singing the first verse of something she was working on, and, unprepared, he blurted, “I like when you smile.” Then they both looked away, nervous and bumbling; he took a sip of his lemonade and tried to refocus. He’d looked right at her lips; he was already thinking about kissing her and certain it was all too obvious. He needed to get a handle on this. It had only been a week.

She was explaining further thoughts for the song when she paused, bit her lip, and said, “One second.” Holding up a finger, she got up and ran into the house. He sat for a quiet moment, chewing his lip and wondering why he couldn’t just act _normal_ around her, but simultaneously questioning if he’d correctly read that bit of a smile that had made him say something in the first place. He second-guessed himself, because he knew he _wanted_ her to like him, but…

She reemerged from the house with an acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder by an old, faded strap. “You play?” he asked in delighted surprise.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling uncertainly as she sat down again, pulling her chair over next to him so they could both look at her notebook. “Did you think I wrote accompaniment just for fun?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t think about it,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Here, this is kind of what I was thinking for Stella’s part when it comes in. It’ll sound different on her electric, obviously, but…”

“No, that’s fine,” he told her, a little too eagerly. “Go ahead.”

-

It was a few practices later, as they were nailing down Determinate, that Stella announced that she wanted to do a protest song and highlight the mistreatment of the school’s non-athletic departments. The others exchanged glances; they knew Brenigan wouldn’t like it – but Stella was passionate about it, and they relented quickly. It wasn’t like they didn’t share her opinion.

“My one concern,” she admitted, after Wen and Olivia promised to help her write the song, “is that I’d really like to sing on that one – if that’s okay with you, Olivia? – but I’m not great at singing and playing at the same time, to be honest.”

Wen glanced at Olivia, who was nodding at Stella, and then back at the group. “Olivia could take the guitar part on it,” he suggested.

Stella lit up. “Olivia, do you play?” she asked excitedly at the same time that Olivia exclaimed, “Wen!”

“What?” he asked, turning to face her. “You could!”

“I’m not that good,” Olivia said quickly, turning back to Stella. “My – my dad taught me a few chords as a kid and since then I’m all self-taught.”

“So am I,” Stella assured her. “That doesn’t mean you’re not good.”

“Yeah, me too,” Charlie added, bumping Olivia’s arm. “It’s no big deal.”

“Mo and I are the only ones here with formal training, and I’m the only one playing an instrument I’ve actually been taught to play,” Wen pointed out. “Besides, you’re better than you give yourself credit for.” He grinned.

“Have you heard her play?” Mo asked eagerly.

He looked up and nodded. “A little, when we’re writing. I’m certain she’s more than capable enough to handle the guitar for at least one song.”

Olivia groaned softly. “I don’t know… I’ve never played electric,” she told Stella.

“That’s okay!” Stella assured her. “Here, come try mine. It’s not that hard to adjust.”

Olivia looked over at Wen, pouting. “Why’d you tell them?” she asked quietly, though not so quietly that the others couldn’t hear her.

He grinned again. “Because I like hearing you play,” he said. “And I’m up for any excuse to make it happen more often.”

Her exasperation gave way to a flattered little smile, which she tried to hide by looking away, letting Stella grab her by the wrist and drag her across the music room to the instruments.

-

“She’s really mad about the lemonade machine, isn’t she?” Olivia muttered, leaning over next to Wen’s ear.

He looked across the table at the back of Stella’s head and nodded. She’d turned around on the bench, leaning her back against the lunch table, arms crossed, glowering at the Turbo Blast machine by the stairs. “Yeah, she’s pretty steamed.”

“I mean, I’m not happy about it either, but…”Olivia shrugged slightly, her arm brushing against his.

He glanced down at her. “It does seem a little extreme,” he admitted. “It’s really fuelled her motivation on Here We Go, though. She’s going to burst into flames onstage tonight.”

Olivia looked down at her hands on the table. “Mm.”

He seemed to know what was going through her mind already. It was no secret how anxious she was about performing that night. His gaze flicked to her nearly-untouched lunch, and he nudged her gently. “You have to eat, Olivia.”

She looked up again, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

He was trying to come up with the best way to assure her that it was going to be a good night when everyone’s attention was diverted to Mo, sitting down angrily next to Stella. “What’s wrong?” Stella asked immediately.

“Scott,” Mo growled.

Olivia reached across the table to touch Mo’s hand. “Oh, Mo…”

-

They weren’t sure what exactly what to do at first when the lights went out. Wen reached both arms out automatically, not wanting anyone to go too close to the edge of the stage and potentially fall, and he found a hand. “Who’s this?” he asked, giving a friendly squeeze; all he knew for sure was that it couldn’t be Charlie.

“Wen, is that you?”

“Olivia?” he asked. “Come on, let’s get off the stage. Mo? Stella?” Everyone grabbed each other by the arm or the back of a shirt, finding Charlie by the drums, and headed for the back corner of the stage where they knew the stairs were.

“What happened?” Stella was asking loudly.

“Brenigan,” Lyle’s voice came out of the dark, and then his face was illuminated in front of them by a pocket flashlight. He pointed it down at the floor to avoid blinding anyone. “He shut us down. You guys good? I might recommend getting out of the way before the lights go back on. Let him simmer down a bit.”

“That’s a good idea,” Wen agreed.

“Can we go outside for a sec?” Charlie asked, tugging at his collar. “I’m baking.”

With a murmur of agreement, the five of them headed down the dim hall backstage and pushed their way out a nearby door. In the light cast onto the pavement by a buzzing light on the wall, the five of them inspected each other, still processing what had happened. Wen looked down at his left hand, still clasped in Olivia’s right; she was holding Mo with the other one. Their hands were sweaty, but he kind of liked the feeling anyway.

Suddenly Stella broke into a grin.

“Aren’t you mad?” Charlie asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m furious,” she said, nodding. “But something tells me Brenigan’s never heard the word ‘martyr.’”

Mo let go of Olivia and stepped forward, smiling a bit herself. “Also, I want to point out, that was _awesome_ ,” she said.

All of them began to smile as everything set in. “Did you see everyone dancing?” Charlie asked. “I mean… _everyone_.”

Wen glanced at Olivia, still holding his hand. Even she was starting to smile. “You did amazing,” he told her. “That was incredible.”

She laughed, all anxiety and adrenaline. “It kind of was, wasn’t it?” She let go of him, and for a second he missed the contact, but then she turned to him and jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck. He stumbled backward slightly, putting his arms around her back and hugging her tightly, burying his enormous grin in her shoulder. “Thanks Wen,” she murmured.

“Any time,” he responded quietly.

-

Monday morning was not great. They’d managed to escape Brenigan’s direct wrath at the Bash, but eventually they had to face him, and he was _mad_. None of them felt good leaving his office. Stella was all righteous indignation; the others were a little more on the dejected end of the scale. Mo squeezed Olivia’s hand, patted Stella’s shoulder, and hurried back to class; Charlie clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, so he just gave them all a curt wave and took off. Stella took a moment to charge back and forth in the hallway, irritated, before deciding that it would be better just to go to gym class and burn the steam off there.

Wen had exchanged glances with Olivia more than once while Brenigan chewed them out, so he knew she was a bit wound up. Now he looked at her for a few more seconds, watching her crumble under mounting anxiety that she couldn’t keep capped, and after a brief hesitation he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side.

At the contact her remaining composure seemed to disappear; she folded her arms against her stomach, breathing fast. “C’mere,” he said, putting his arms around her again. He felt her lean her face into his shoulder, trying to steady her breathing, and he rubbed one hand in slow circles on her back. For a few moments they just stood there, and he tried to provide her with some kind of steadiness to rely on until she could recover.

“We should go to class,” she finally said, stiltedly, her voice shaky. “We’re – we’re gonna get in trouble.”

Wen shook his head. “Not until you’re feeling up to it,” he told her. “If anyone gives us trouble I’ll explain, don’t worry. Besides, what are they gonna do, give us detention?”

A hard exhale served as a tiny laugh, and then she ducked her face down further against his hoodie, snaking her arms around his waist and knotting her hands in the loose fabric. He kept rubbing her back, waiting for her breathing to even out. When she seemed to be a little calmer, he pulled away from her a bit, scooping an arm around her shoulders again and leading her gently over to the seats in the lobby outside of the office. They sat down and she closed her eyes, still focused on her breathing. He slouched to look into her lowered face with concern.

“You tell me when you’re okay,” he said. “And then if you want I’ll walk you to class.”

Olivia nodded. “I’m just – not used to getting yelled at like that,” she admitted, voice high and strained.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain,” he assured her. “Take your time.”

“Thanks,” she breathed.

“Of course,” Wen answered. “I’m here for you, Olivia.”

-

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Wen asked, coming up next to her in the hallway at lunch later that day. He was careful now, never snuck up on her. Made an effort not to startle her.

“Sure,” Olivia answered with a smile. “Whatcha got?”

Wen pulled the crumpled $25 Lyle had given him out of his pocket and held it up, grinning.

She frowned. “Um, money…” Clearly she was trying to sound impressed, but mostly she was confused. Wen laughed.

“It’s from Lyle,” he told her. “He recorded the show, and people have been asking him for copies. He started selling them ten bucks apiece. Asked for thirty percent for the A/V club and we get the rest. I thought that sounded fair.”

She put a hand to her mouth, stifling a grin. “Seriously?”

Wen nodded. “Pretty neat, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, wow. Wen, people are paying money for songs we made.”

“Dream come true,” he agreed, wagging his eyebrows. “Hey, Brenigan nixed the band, but maybe you and I have a future as songwriters, huh?”

Olivia laughed. “We make a good team,” she admitted softly.

“You bet,” he said assuredly. “You wanna come with me to tell the others the good news?”

“Sure,” she said, falling into step next to him as he started towards the cafeteria.

“You know what I think we should do with our first payday?” he asked, waving the bills in the air. She shook her head, smiling. “We should go get a celebratory pizza.”

-

It was a week or two later that they all stood outside Dante’s in awe of the banner strung up with their photo on it, larger than life. When she grabbed his hand he felt his heart pound, but all he did was give her a little squeeze, grinning up at his own likeness. “This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me,” he commented idly, and the others voiced their agreement, disbelief in their tones.

Eventually everyone had to disperse, Charlie by bicycle, Mo on foot, Stella into her dad’s car. Olivia sat on the curb next to Wen while he waited for his own father. His hand still tingled a little from where she’d held it for several minutes there.

“Someone had to have hung that while we were inside,” she observed, looking over her shoulder at the banner again.

“I wonder who it was,” he answered. “Think we’ll ever find out?”

“No idea,” Olivia admitted.

“Kind of surreal, huh?” he asked, bumping her shoulder playfully.

“Kind of?” she responded with a grin. “I’m still coming to grips with all of this. It’s nuts.”

“You’re not kidding,” he laughed, looking down. It was slightly distracting having her pressed against his side, no matter how often they sat together like this. After a moment’s quiet, he asked, “So if we’re gonna be performing again, I guess that means more songwriting sessions for us, huh?”

“Guess so,” she agreed. “Can’t say I really mind. Even though I’m still not quite sure how I’m going to survive further performances.”

“You’ll be fine,” Wen assured her, looking up into her worried face. “You were amazing last time.”

She looked down at her feet, playing with her hair suddenly, an embarrassed grin on her face. “Thanks.”

He watched her for a second, enchanted, but the moment was broken when a familiar pickup pulled into the parking lot. “Hey Dad,” Wen greeted, getting to his feet.

“Hey buddy,” Mr. Gifford answered. Looking past his son, he said, “Hi Olivia, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” she answered shyly.

“Dad, check it out,” Wen said excitedly, pointing over his shoulder at the banner.

Mr. Gifford leaned across the console to look out his passenger window and broke into a grin. “No way.”

“Right?”

“That’s awesome. Are you guys gonna perform here after all, then?”

“I think so,” Wen nodded, approaching the window.

“Cool.” Mr. Gifford glanced at Olivia again. “Do you have a ride home, sweetheart?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said hurriedly, rubbing her arm. “I have my bike, it’s not that far.”

Mr. Gifford glanced at Wen, who told him, “It’s like a fifteen minute ride.”

Mr. Gifford looked at Olivia again. “It’s getting dark out. Why don’t you toss your bike in the truck bed and let me give you a lift?” he offered. “I’d rather know you’re getting home safe.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine…” she answered again, automatically, but Wen reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“C’mon, let us give you a ride,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s hardly out of our way.”

“Well…” Olivia bit her lip, glancing at Mr. Gifford and then back to Wen. She relented to his smile, just like she always did. “Yeah, okay.”

-

Despite some of the earlier misgivings, the band eventually agreed to try playing at Dante’s one Thursday. After they’d done it once it was hard _not_ to sign on for the weekly deal Dante offered. The enthusiasm of the crowd was irresistible; they were loud and excited and ready to love everything the band did.

Wen was equal parts relieved and thrilled that Olivia had agreed; it was her he’d been most worried about convincing. She took a little needling even after their first performance, but she was smiling when she gave in.

Performing on the little stage had a certain appeal despite the limited space. Most of the time she was practically next to him when she sang; he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. She still danced once she got into it, too, coming over beside him, leaning on his shoulder and dancing with him like they so often did in practice, making his stomach flutter a little. There wasn’t much he loved more than having her dance with him as she sang and he played, when it was easy to forget that anything or anyone else existed.

Their songwriting sessions in her backyard were the other highlight of his week. Often they took place on Saturday afternoons, with a pitcher of lemonade, his laptop, and her guitar. Once in a while someone else would come – they spent a few weeks writing She’s So Gone with Mohini – but usually it was their time alone together, and Wen came to really value those days. They meant always getting to know her better, building a friendship between just the two of them that was distinct from the friendship of the group. It wasn’t that he wasn’t becoming friends with everyone – he and Stella had similar ideas about the band, he and Charlie liked to goof off together, and he was even getting to know Mohini better now that she was spending all of what used to be her Scott-time with them instead – but he spent more time one-on-one with Olivia than anyone else, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was when Nancy curled up cautiously at his feet one day while they wrote that he suddenly felt like he really belonged there. Olivia’s Gram seemed to love him, but with Nancy lying next to him in the sun and a damp-eyed Olivia biting down on a smile and taking a couple photos, Wen felt a certain inner peace blooming, like Olivia’s home and family had become a little bit his as well, and he hoped he’d never have to leave.

Olivia wiped a hand across her eyes and laughed softly at herself. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he told her with a little smile. He knew that Nancy’s days were numbered; at this point it was a matter of trying to make her comfortable. He could only imagine how that felt for Olivia. He glanced down at the sleeping cat, looking surprisingly peaceful in spite of the state of her health. “I feel like I’m really part of the family now. I’ve won over the cat and now I actually belong here.” He glanced back up, checking to see if his little joke had made her laugh, but instead she seemed to be crying more. His smile disappeared and he leaned toward her, trying not to move his feet and disturb the cat. “Did I say something wrong?”

A hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut, Olivia shook her head. She took a few moments to breathe, then slowly looked up at him again, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, it’s just—” She paused, taking another deep breath. “It’s stupid,” she breathed.

Wen shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not,” he assured her. “You can tell me, if you want.”

“I just…” she exhaled slowly. “You know, it’s been seven years since my mom died, and I always kind of… once in a while I used to…” She bit her lip, and Wen reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I don’t know. Especially when I was younger, it was comforting to think Mom was talking to me through Nancy sometimes. There was once in the first couple months when I was having a really bad time, and Nancy wouldn’t leave me alone, and eventually I got up to follow her and see what she wanted, and she took me to the closet where Mom’s favourite blanket was stored. It probably didn’t mean anything, but it felt like it did then.”

Wen left his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, wanting to offer some comfort, but still a little reluctant to move, and a little uncertain how much she wanted to be touched. He licked his lips, hesitant, then ventured, “Y’know, sometimes I think things can mean things just because we need them to.”

Olivia let out a long shaky sigh, surprising him by reaching up to her shoulder and taking his hand lightly. “I just – I think Mom would have really liked you, Wen,” she said quietly, looking at the tabletop. “So Nancy curling up at your feet like that when she doesn’t normally react much to people other than me and Gram at all, it – it feels important. Like Mom coming around to tell me I picked well.”

“Oh,” he said, taken aback. Then, after a second’s pause, he cleared his throat, trying to recover some of his composure. “I – I’m glad you think so,” he stammered. “I’m… I mean, that’s really sweet. It means a lot.”

Olivia gave his fingers a tiny squeeze and then let them go, taking another deep breath and reaching for her guitar again. “We should get back to work, I think,” she told him.

“Sure,” Wen agreed slowly, letting go of her shoulder and returning his attention to his laptop, trying not to get distracted by all the different things he was feeling all of a sudden. He could try to disentangle and identify all of that later. He put his hands over the keys for a moment, poised to play something – what, he didn’t know – and then pulled them back into his lap. Impulsively, he looked back up at her and asked, “Have you ever been horseback riding?”

-

It was only a few days later that Nancy passed away. When they all got to Olivia’s house that afternoon, Wen took one look at Gram’s face and knew immediately what had happened, taking off past her to go find Olivia out back. The others stayed behind for a moment, less familiar with the small details of Olivia’s life, waiting to hear Gram’s explanation. He was already with her when they followed him out the back door a moment later.

They spent a large part of their afternoon sitting with her, singing to her, comforting her, as things came to light. In the end she only ever told them a few more things about her father, but they all used the afternoon as a kind of cathartic venting session, confiding in each other in a way they hadn’t done much before, and by the time it was over they all felt a lot closer than they had earlier.

Eventually, as always, people had to go home. Wen was the last one left, worried about her and reluctant to leave her alone. But he called his dad to ask for a ride and while they waited for him to show up they sat quietly together in the grass, Wen trying hard to keep conversation light and flowing.

His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen and sighed. “Dad had to stop at the grocery store on his way, but he just left there, so he’ll be here in like five minutes.”

“Okay.” Olivia smoothed her skirt as she got to her feet, wringing her hands nervously. “Thank you for coming, Wen.”

“Of course,” he told her, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Then he reached out and pulled her into his arms, sighing softly. “I’ll always come,” he murmured into her hair.

Olivia hugged him back, letting out a long breath. His hugs were comforting, she couldn’t deny it. “Thanks,” she repeated in a whisper.

Wen put a hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair gently. She knotted her hands in the back of his sweater, holding him close and breathing slowly into his shoulder.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked her.

“Yeah. I think so.” She nodded against him. “Thanks to you.”

“Then I did my job,” he answered with a smile.

Their moment of peace finally came to an end with the unmistakable sound of Mr. Gifford’s truck pulling into the driveway, followed by Wen’s phone buzzing in his pocket a moment later. Olivia sighed and extracted herself from his chest; he gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting his hands drop to his sides. “Hey, Olivia?” he asked as they turned towards the gate. She looked up. “I’m glad Nancy and I made friends the other day.”

Olivia broke into a smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

-

More Than A Band had been written mostly in the grass in Olivia’s backyard, and it was in Stella’s backyard that they performed it for the first time. Timmy and Andy had been badgering Stella to have the band over so they could try recording and filming a song, and More Than A Band seemed appropriate for the occasion.

It had become an all-day affair, really, starting at lunchtime and lasting until after dark. They rehearsed a couple times before letting the twins record, making sure they had all of their parts down pat. Charlie worried a little – it was his first time doing vocals on a song – but with the others’ encouragement he got it just right. A week or so later when Stella brought her brothers’ final cut of the video to school, all five of them were thrilled with the results.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was devoted just to goofing off, the twins filming some of their antics for b-roll. With Stella playing a happy little tune on her acoustic, Wen couldn’t resist stretching a hand out to Olivia; she knew just what he was thinking – because of course she did, she always did – and he was pleased that she joined him so readily. Dancing their way around Stella’s pool, Mo and Charlie dancing off to one side and Charlie laughingly complaining that he didn’t know how, Wen felt completely content with his life. He caught the raised eyebrows and meaningful grins that Stella shot him, but he ignored them.

He knew he probably wasn’t all that subtle. By now, frankly, he suspected that Olivia might not be incredibly subtle either. But they had all known each other for less than two months at that point, and he knew Olivia scared easily, so he wasn’t rushing anything, even if he sort of wanted to. Better to take the long way around. There was no _reason_ to rush. As far as he was concerned they had all the time in the world.

After all, they’d always be more than a band.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” Olivia teased him as he pulled her in and spun her around.

“My grandma and grandpa love dancing,” he answered with a smile. “They taught me when I was a kid. What about you?”

“It was… Dad taught me, when I was little.” Sadness flickered in her gaze, but it was the first time he’d ever heard her mention her father without her voice breaking. He squeezed her hand just slightly, spinning her out in front of him.

“Well, I’m glad,” he said. “Since clearly we’re doing better than Mo and Charlie.”

Olivia giggled at that, glancing over to see Charlie throw his hands in the air in bewilderment and a laughing Mo grab them back, trying to walk the drummer though a few simple steps.

A short while later it was, surprisingly, Mo who started shoving people into the pool. She snuck up on Charlie and gave him a push as soon as she noticed his phone left on the table, and everyone shouted. Knowing now that the game was on, other phones and valuables were tossed into a pile and it was open season. Stella pushed Mo next, delighting in her victory; Wen snuck up on Stella. Despite the obvious way things had to go from there, he was still taken off-guard when Olivia came to stand innocently next to him, sharing in his laughter, and then suddenly shoved her shoulder against his side and heaved him straight into the water. He was still laughing when he surfaced, reaching up to grab her hand. Good-naturedly, she allowed herself to be yanked into the pool as well, taking no time to relish her triumph as the last one dry. He was playful but gentle at the same time, giving her a second to grab a breath, letting her fall against him in the water.

Their antics took them in and out of the pool for the next couple hours, Stella clambering out and running to the shed for noodles, toys, and inflatable floats, shouting for her brothers to bring out towels. They came out with the camera, shooting some more b-roll of the chaos to add to their video later. Mr. Yamada emerged at some point, a rare casual-Saturday appearance with no jacket, to light the barbecue and take a tally of who wanted burgers and who hot dogs. Stella told him – almost no irritation in her voice that day – where in the freezer to find her veggie burgers, and he and his wife took turns checking on the grill.

Eventually the whole band sat around the table, towels wrapped around their shoulders, scarfing down their supper and shouting their thanks to the hosts. The girls watched in amazement at how much food Wen and Charlie could put away, though in the end Stella wasn’t far behind them. Later it was Mo who proved her dominance by having by far the highest hot sauce tolerance, which shouldn’t have been a surprise but was still impressive to witness. “Here I thought _I_ liked the stuff,” Stella laughed as she put a little on her second burger.

“Come back when your dad’s been working nights and this is the first non-curry meal you’ve had in a week and a half,” Mo challenged with a grin. “Actually, better yet, you should all actually come over for curry sometime. I’d _love_ to see that.”

Olivia leaned against Wen’s side and let out a long contented sigh. “Not getting too tired for tomorrow, I hope,” he teased her.

She smiled and shook her head as Charlie glanced over from Wen’s right. “What’s tomorrow?” he asked curiously.

“Olivia’s coming over to see the horses,” Wen answered. “We’re gonna go riding around the property and stuff. Weather’s supposed to be nice.”

“That sounds like fun,” Mo commented, providing Wen a convenient excuse not to look at Stella, who was shooting him meaningful looks again. “When do the rest of us get to come see them?”

“Do you want to?” he asked, eyebrows raised a little. “I’m never actually sure if it would be that interesting for people. Not everyone’s into horses.”

“I’d love to,” Mo answered earnestly, glancing at Stella and Charlie, who nodded as well.

“Okay, cool,” Wen said with a nod. “We’ll have to find a day everyone’s free and the weather looks good. Have any of you ever been riding? I can’t teach three people at once, I might have to make sure my dad’s free too…”

-

“So… how does all of this… work?” Olivia asked awkwardly as Wen led her to the barn.

He smiled a bit. “We own the property,” he told her. “And we rent out space for other people to board their horses. Not a lot of people can keep their animals on their own property, so the horses stay here. We do a lot of the basic maintenance – well, us and a few hands – and the owners come by as often as they can to visit and ride and everything.” Propping the barn doors open with a couple of bricks, he waved Olivia inside and toward the nearest stall.

“So how many of the horses do you actually own, then?” she asked.

“Four,” he answered. “Mine, Dad’s, Georgie’s, and, uh… I mean, Dad owns all of them on paper, but Sunset was Mom’s… we couldn’t bring ourselves to sell her, and y’know, it’s not like we’re hurting for the resources to keep her, so…” He knew Sydney adored Sunset, but he wasn’t quite ready to think of the mare as anyone but his mother’s.

“Right,” Olivia nodded. Trying to change the subject for him, she asked, “So who’s this?”

“This is Zephyr,” Wen replied, stroking the nose of a tall dapple grey gelding. “He’s been with me since I was ten. C’mere.” Explaining as he went, he led Olivia up from one side and took her hand, showing her how to approach. He took her hand and gently showed her how to let Zephyr give her a sniff before stroking his face.

“Don’t feel silly about talking to them, it lets them know where you are,” he assured her as he lowered his hand. He watched for a moment while she petted Zephyr’s long muzzle, biting down a smile, and he couldn’t help feeling happy – and a little relieved – that she was enjoying herself so much already. He didn’t talk about them much, but the horses were a pretty big part of his life, and he was glad that she was responding positively to her first horse encounter. He reached into his pocket. “Here,” he said, pressing a baby carrot into her free hand. “Hold it out in front of him, on your palm, hand flat.”

She followed his instructions and laughed as Zephyr eagerly took the carrot from her. Wiping her hand on her jeans, she turned to face Wen again. “He’s beautiful.”

Wen couldn’t repress his grin. “Yeah, he’s a handsome fella. I’m lucky to have him.” Licking his lips quickly, trying not to stare too obviously at the incredible smile on her face, he asked, “You want to meet Butter?”

“Butter?” Olivia laughed.

Wen nodded. “Georgie’s horse. She’s super calm, so I thought she’d be a good candidate for your first ride. And Georgie said it’s fine.” He stepped around Olivia, beckoning for him to follow. Two stalls over, he approached a light, almost-yellow chestnut horse, noticeably smaller than Zephyr.

“Hi Butter,” Olivia greeted, grinning again as Wen acquainted them, offering up another carrot to sweeten the introduction. “Where’d you get a name like that, hmm?”

Wen laughed. “Georgie was like, five years old when Butter came into our hands,” he explained. “She saw a yellow horse and said ‘her name is Butter’ and could not be convinced otherwise.” He patted the young horse fondly. “Butter was just a tiny foal then, still suckling and everything. She and her mother ended up here as rescues. Her mother was rehomed a couple years ago, but Georgie was so attached to Butter that Dad bought her as soon as he got a chance. She’s still a filly, but not for much longer. Her birthday’s coming up.”

“I like her,” Olivia told him with a smile. “She’s sweet.”

He nodded. “I thought you two would get along.” He scratched Butter’s mane gently. “So, you want to go for a ride?”

Wen opened Butter’s stall and made quick work of putting on her harness, leading her out into the open middle of the barn to saddle her. Once that was taken care of, he helped Olivia mount her, words of encouragement flowing steadily along the way. Olivia was clearly both nervous and excited, but she did a pretty good job of keeping it tamped down so that she could handle Butter calmly. It wasn’t the first time that Wen had taught someone how to ride, though he hadn’t done it often. First he just had Olivia hold on while he led Butter slowly outside and walked in a few circles, letting Olivia get used to the saddle. When she was ready he started giving her basic instructions, and before long he was able to let go of the lead and let Olivia direct things for a moment.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” he told her with a smile.

She peered down at him from her perch on Butter’s back and grinned nervously. “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. He scooped up the lead again and headed back towards to barn. “I’ll saddle up Zephyr and we’ll go for a little adventure. There’s a really easy trail that goes down the west side of the property, it’s perfect for a first time.”

“Trails…” Olivia muttered, shaking her head as Wen looped the end of Butter’s lead over a hook on the wall and headed into Zephyr’s stall. “You have trails?”

“Sure,” he answered casually. “Doesn’t it make sense to have trails? Since we have horses.”

“Wen, I can cross my backyard in about fifteen paces,” she snorted.

“Oh,” he answered, catching on. “Yeah, uh… I guess I see what you mean.” Awkwardly, he looked over at her and shrugged. “I dunno, this is just what I’ve always known.”

“You’re spoiled,” she teased him. “You and your big house and your personal horse and your property with _trails_.”

“ _Spoiled?_ ” he asked, mockingly incensed, as he led Zephyr out of the stall and up alongside Butter. He hauled himself up into the saddle, finally level with Olivia again – give or take a few inches, considering the height differences both between himself and Olivia and between Zephyr and Butter. “I am _insulted_.”

Olivia laughed. “Well, at least you don’t act spoiled, I suppose,” she conceded. “You do know how to work pretty hard, for a spoiled kid.”

“Thank you,” he responded, still a little bit jokingly snobby. He attached the long lead from Butter’s halter to his own saddle, and then they turned and headed back out of the barn.

Olivia followed, still getting a handle on riding, next to Wen as he led them at a relaxed walk around behind the barn and down a beaten dirt path. After a few minutes the barns and pastures fell behind them and gave way to sparse deciduous trees, tall and far enough apart for sunlight to filter attractively through the leaves onto the trail.

Wen couldn’t help glancing at Olivia’s face as they rode, wondering what she was thinking. As much as he could take what he had for granted a lot of the time, this was one of his favourite places to go, and it was never more beautiful than when he was sharing it for the first time with someone he cared about. He felt his stomach flip a little as he watched the smile on her face growing; he could tell she was getting more comfortable with riding, as well. It made him happy.

“It’s beautiful out here, Wen,” she told him after a minute or two. “I had no idea you lived somewhere so gorgeous.”

“I forget sometimes, myself,” he confessed. “I don’t know, I’ve been here my whole life. It’s easy not to notice what you’ve always had. But bringing someone new out here has always been the best reminder.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking from the trees back to his face. “This is amazing. I’m glad you invited me.”

“Me too,” he answered, dragging his gaze forward again before he found himself completely hypnotized. “You’re welcome.”

For a while they rode in comfortable silence. The trail ran approximately parallel with the western property line, and to Olivia it seemed pretty long. As Wen had promised, though, it was easy terrain to navigate; the ground was level and the dirt path pretty well-kept. Zephyr and Butter didn’t need much direction, either; they knew the trail well and walked along contentedly almost without instruction. Finally they approached the bottom corner of the property and Wen glanced at Olivia with a smile.

“We’re coming up on what I wanted to show you,” he told her.

“Oh?” she asked. “I didn’t realize we had a destination.”

He nodded. “I think you’ll like it down here.”

They crossed a small wooden bridge, well-worn but sturdy, over a pleasantly burbling creek that Wen had spent more than a little bit of his childhood traipsing through barefoot. He thought about stopping and seeing if he could catch a frog to show her, but decided that could wait. Past the bridge they came to a right turn around an enormous maple tree, and a short ways beyond that the trees thinned out again and opened up around a little meadow.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Olivia exclaimed as Wen pulled Zephyr to a gentle stop. Butter stopped next to him and Wen looked down at Olivia with a grin.

“It’s a good spot,” he said, nodding. “I thought you’d like it down here. You wanna take a break?”

“Sure,” she answered, and Wen slid easily out of his saddle and then stepped around to Butter’s side to offer Olivia a hand down. He almost didn’t let go of her when she reached the ground, but he made himself; regardless, she seemed to hold his hand just a fraction longer than she had to. Thanking him, she pulled away and stepped forward to admire the thick grass dotted with wildflowers. He paused to tie the horses by a long lead to an old fencepost driven into the ground nearby, and they happily put their heads down to graze.

“This would be such a perfect place for a picnic,” Olivia observed as Wen came to stand next to her, hands in his pockets.

“It is,” he said with a nod. “I thought about packing one for today, but I didn’t. Next time,” he promised.

“That sounds great,” she answered, biting down on a big grin at the words ‘next time.’ “Oh, Wen, you’re so lucky.”

Wen smiled at the ground, scratching at the back of one leg with the toe of his other boot. “Well, you’re welcome any time,” he told her. “My dad likes you, and y’know, Georgie’s barely met you, but I’m pretty sure you two’ll spell disaster for me as soon as you get to know her better. You’ll get along way too well.”

Olivia laughed, shaking her head as she headed toward the middle of the clearing. “You’re sweet.” She sat down on the grass, legs folded beside her, and Wen followed. He crossed his legs Indian-style and leaned back on his arms.

“It’s a great spot for star-gazing, too,” he pointed out, just looking for more things to say. “Long way from the city lights. You’d be amazed how much there is to see. Have you ever stayed out to watch a meteor shower?”

“Once or twice,” she replied with a nod. “Hard to see much from my backyard though.”

“You’ll have to come out for one next summer,” he suggested, smiling. “We could invite the whole band, have all of us out here for a night. It would be fun.”

“Yeah, I like that idea,” Olivia agreed brightly.

“Let’s plan on it, then,” he said.

She nodded, running her hands through the soft grass for a moment. Then she said, “If it’s a good spot for stargazing, I imagine it’s a good spot for cloudgazing, too.” She leaned back, stretching herself out on the ground.

Wen grinned and followed suit, folding his hands under his head as he laid down beside her. “Well, there’s a great big dragon right there,” he started, pointing. “You see it?”

She laughed. “He’s headed for the coffee mug over there.”

“Gotta have his morning joe before he can get anything else done,” Wen reasoned, and she laughed again.

They spent a while lying in the grass, watching the clouds and joking together and alternating between chatting and idle silence. At some point Wen rolled over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his hands and enjoying the sun on his back. A couple feet away from him a few yellow flowers poked their heads up out of the grass, and after a while he reached out and plucked one, spinning it between his fingers.

“Should we carry on?” Olivia asked soon after that, breaking a few minutes’ silence.

“Probably, I guess,” Wen agreed, grunting as he heaved himself up off the ground. He reached down and helped Olivia to her feet; any excuse to hold her hand again, even just for a moment. They stood facing each other for a second or two, neither apparently quite ready to move, and Wen thought. Then, as casually as possible, he held up the flower in offering, smiling at her.

“Oh!” She seemed pleasantly surprised. “Thank you.” Smiling back, she took it, looking at it admiringly for a moment, seemingly wondering what to do with it. Then she tucked it behind her ear.

“Perfect,” he told her, saying it before he could stop himself. Then, trying hard not to lose his cool, he kept his smile on and turned back towards the horses.

On their way back towards the house – the second half of the trail looped around past the clearing and cut into the property closer toward the middle – Olivia looked over at Zephyr for a moment. “Do you ride a lot?” she asked.

Wen glanced at her and nodded, almost amused by the question. “Not all the time,” he admitted. “I go through phases where I only take him out once a week or so. But most of the time, we go out pretty often.”

“So…” She seemed unsure how to ask her next question. He waited patiently. “You’re pretty experienced, I guess?”

A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I’m not a jockey, but yeah, you could probably say that.”

“I’m just curious if you, like – you know, if you do things other than just walk around like this,” Olivia said awkwardly. “I, uh… Hm. I guess it’s obvious that I don’t know much about horses.”

Wen chuckled. “Yes, we do things other than walk around,” he explained indulgently. “Most of our rides are a little quicker than this, and I try to vary which trails we take, just for interest’s sake. Or sometimes Dad and I will get the horses into a trailer and take them out to a conservation area with nice trails. Once in a while we go for a good run.” He paused, wondering if he should brag a little, then added, “We’re not half bad at jumps, either.”

“Really?” She looked impressed, and he felt a little proud of himself. “This is nice, but I don’t think I’m ready to go any faster just yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured her. He chewed his tongue for a moment. He hadn’t been planning on showing off today, but now that she had brought it up… “When we get back, we could put Butter back in her stall and then go down to the arena and I could show you, if you want.”

Olivia smiled brightly. “That would be really cool,” she said, a little excitement in her voice.

“Okay,” Wen agreed, grinning. He patted Zephyr’s neck. “Zeph was bred for racing, but he didn’t quite make the cut. He’s pretty good, though, if you ask me. I don’t mind a chance to show him off a bit.”

An hour later, Butter was resting in her stall again and Wen had found Olivia an old, sun-faded lawn chair so that she could sit by one edge of the outdoor arena and watch him with Zephyr. He started just by showing her tricks and silly routines he’d taught Zephyr years ago, then going for a few laps around the arena at a gallop. Finally Wen took him over a handful of jumps erected in the middle of the arena, grinning to himself at Olivia’s applause and impressed shouts.

As a rule, Wen wasn’t a big show-off. For all that he liked to joke at having an ego, he tended to keep his actual skills more private unless he had a real reason to make use of them. That said, he couldn’t deny that there was something enjoyable about impressing Olivia. It wasn’t like he didn’t know why; it always felt good to impress someone you liked. But he hadn’t spent this much _time_ with someone he liked maybe ever, so this was still a fairly new experience.

After maybe half an hour or so, Wen led a sweating Zephyr over to Olivia again, smiling as she clapped for them. “You’re both very good,” she told them with a grin.

Wen slid out of the saddle and put a hand on his horse’s neck. “What do we do now, buddy?” he asked, and at a small gesture from Wen, Zephyr lowered his head and front half in a bow. Wen bowed next to him, privately delighting in the way Olivia laughed, and then gave Zephyr the last carrot out of his pocket. “Good boy.” He scratched the horse’s dark mane affectionately.

Olivia got to her feet and approached the two of them, still grinning. “I love how you’re… friends with him, I guess.”

Wen looked fondly at the horse next to him. “’Course we’re friends,” he said. “I don’t think you can spend that much time with an animal and not be friends. Like… well, like you and Nancy.” He knew that might be a slightly sore spot, so he glanced back at her, watching to gauge her reaction for a moment.

Olivia smiled, a little sadly, and nodded. “Yeah, of course. That makes sense.”

Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Wen pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time. “We should put him away and go in to clean up for dinner.” He tucked his phone away and began to lead Zephyr towards the arena gate, pausing on the way to fold up the lawn chair and put it under his arm. Olivia walked alongside him back to the barn.

“Hey Dan,” Wen greeted a big, bearded guy in overalls and a cap who was mucking out a stall near Zephyr’s. “How are you?”

“Good, ‘n you?” the man answered cheerfully, pausing in his work and leaning on the wall.

“Not so bad,” Wen answered with a smile as he removed Zephyr’s saddle and hung it up on the wall.

“Who’s the little lady?” Dan asked, grinning with a little good-natured mischief as he pointed at Olivia. “This your girlfriend, Wendell?”

Olivia looked away in embarrassment, but Wen only laughed a little. If it were anyone else he probably would have been more awkward about it, but he knew Dan well enough to know the man was just trying to get a rise out of him, and didn’t mean anything by it. “Nah, Dan, this is my friend Olivia,” he said. “We went out for her first ride today. Olivia, this is Dan.”

“Hi,” she said shyly, glancing back up at the man again; seeing the friendly smile on his face, she realized he had only been teasing.

“Olivia from the band?” Dan asked. Wen nodded, and Dan’s smile grew. “Very good. Enjoy your first ride, Olivia?”

She nodded. “It was fun,” she answered quietly.

“Good. I’ll tell you what, Olivia, Wen’s not a half-bad teacher, you know,” the man assured her, raising his eyebrows. “You could do a lot worse if you’d like to keep at it.”

Wen looked up from what he was doing, narrowing his eyes and leaning out of Zephyr’s stall to peer at Dan for a moment. Dan winked at the boy, grin never wavering, and then tipped his hat and went back to his work.

Once Wen was finished he and Olivia headed back up to the house, coming in through the back and leaving their dirty shoes in the mudroom. “Have a good time, guys?” Mr. Gifford asked cheerfully as they stepped into the kitchen.

“We did,” Wen answered, crossing to the sink to wash his hands. He watched his dad chopping fresh vegetables and glanced over at the oven. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagna!” Georgie answered from her perch on the other side of the counter where it cut through the middle of the kitchen. She looked at Olivia. “Nice flower! I like the yellow ones.”

Olivia reached up and touched the flower behind her ear, faintly surprised, as if she had forgotten about it. “Thanks,” she replied with a smile as she took her turn washing her hands. “Your brother gave it to me.”

Mr. Gifford, who had glanced up to see what Georgie was talking about, turned to look at his son with a bit of a grin. Wen made a face at him, and Mr. Gifford returned to his vegetables, chuckling. “You like tomatoes, Olivia? Fresh out of the garden.”

“I picked them!” Georgie added proudly.

-

Wen looked down at his pizza-covered t-shirt and sighed, not for the first time. “This is stained forever, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yup,” Olivia answered, not even looking up.

They walked side-by-side down the sidewalk towards her house, she walking her bike on her left. It was getting dark and they were feeling, understandably, a bit dejected. Just before the show, Wen had gotten a phone call from his dad, warning him that he’d be stuck late at work and wouldn’t be out in time to pick Wen up afterwards. “That’s okay,” Wen had told him, glancing at the singer. “I’ll go back to Olivia’s and you can pick me up from there when you get out?” Olivia had nodded in confirmation even as his father had sighed and agreed.

The show had, however, gone rather awry, as frankly they should have expected when Ray showed up and took a front seat.

“What a jackass,” Wen muttered, thinking aloud, but Olivia didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Yup,” she said again.

“I think Dante’s really pissed.”

Olivia groaned. “It wasn’t our fault,” she said. “He won’t hold it against us forever, will he?”

Wen shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve heard he can be kind of… black-and-white about these things. I mean, he only came in at the very end.”

“What did Jackie say?” she asked. Wen had been talking with one of Dante’s employees by the door while they were clearing out.

“He’ll try to talk to Dante for us, but he can’t make any promises,” Wen answered. “He said at least he figures it’ll take a few weeks for the air to clear. Dante stays angry for a while, I guess. But in a month or so he’ll relax a bit. At very least we won’t be banned from ever _eating_ there again.”

“Maybe Ray will be,” Olivia answered hopefully, raising her eyebrows.

“That would be nice,” Wen admitted.

The walk back to her house was longish, but the evening was warm. Despite their damaged spirits, the two of them managed to find other things to talk about, and by the time they reached Olivia’s driveway they were both smiling. Wen followed Olivia through the back gate so she could lean her bike against the back of the house, and then inside they greeted Gram where she sat in the living room, working on her embroidery while she watched TV.

“Wen’s just hanging out here for a little bit until his dad can come get him,” Olivia explained. “He got held up at work.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Gram answered with a smile. “How did your evening go?”

Wen and Olivia exchanged grimaces. “Not great,” Olivia sighed. “I’ll tell you about it later. I want to change out of my dress.”

Gram nodded, returning her attention to the television. Olivia hovered at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, then said awkwardly to Wen, “You want to come sit upstairs for a minute?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he replied quickly. He followed her up and waited patiently outside her door while she changed into a sweater and a pair of leggings. When she opened it again and beckoned him in, he realized with mild amusement that she had taken thirty seconds to tidy up as well. He glanced around and smiled; it was a cute bedroom, very Olivia.

The wall to his left was dominated by bookshelves, overflowing with books; the opposite wall had a window overlooking the backyard and, in the corner next to him, a small desk with her computer and her homework. Next to the desk her guitar rested against the wall next to a stack of notebooks and music books. The dresser was just to the left of the door, and straight ahead of him her bed, headboard against the wall, white frame and a mauve bedspread.

Olivia, a little uncertain now, perched on the bed and reached for a bottle of moisturizer on the nightstand, rubbing it into her hands. Not wanting to invade her privacy, Wen turned and sat in her desk chair, spinning it to face her. “This room looks just like you,” he observed, still smiling as he took a second look at her shelves.

She laughed slightly. “Thanks?”

“It’s a good thing,” he confirmed. “I like it.”

Something seemed to catch her eye on the floor in front of the bedside table; Wen glanced down just in time to glimpse the horses on the cover of the thin hardcover before she put one socked foot on top of it and slid it quickly under her bed. He hid his smile and looked back to the bookshelves.

“Um, are you thirsty or anything?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m good,” he assured her. Then, as much to break the awkward silence as anything else, he looked over at her, nodding toward the bookshelves, and said, “Pretty impressive collection. I haven’t read much in the last few years, but you’re kind of making me want to pick it back up.”

At that she lit right up, and he knew he’d picked the right topic. “I didn’t know you were much of a reader.”

“Well, like I said, not as much lately,” he chuckled. “You have any recommendations if I want to get back into it?”

“Well, what do you like to read?” Olivia asked.

Wen rubbed his chin for a moment. “I’m trying to figure out where our tastes would likely overlap,” he admitted. “Most of what I’ve read in the last couple years has been biography or history. I used to read a lot of war and spy novels, especially historical ones…”

“Yeah, you have always been a history fan, haven’t you?” She turned around to look at the shelves as well for a moment, then said, “Oh!”

“Oh?” he repeated.

“I’ve been reading a lot of poetry lately,” she told him as she slid off the edge of her bed and sat down on her feet in front of the shelf, looking for something. “But there’s this one book I read last year… The sort of thing someone bought for me just because they knew I read books, without really knowing _what_ I liked to read, and it wasn’t something I would ever have picked out for myself but I picked it up at some point and it turned out to be really good…” she trailed off, one finger extended as she skimmed the spines. Finally she settled on one and pulled it out, pausing to look at the cover for a second. “Here it is. I think you’d like this one.”

“What is it?” he asked with a smile as she got to her feet again. He actually hadn’t given any thought to starting to read again before about a minute ago, but now he was curious what kind of recommendation she’d make.

“I mean, historical fiction, basically,” Olivia explained, tapping her fingers against the cover as she came slowly around her bed towards him. “But it was really interesting. It follows a few different characters from really different backgrounds, and even though they all seem totally unrelated except for the city they live in, all of their stories get woven together so intricately by the end…” She glanced up at him then, suddenly self-conscious as she handed him the book. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. But I liked it.”

Smiling, he looked at the front cover, then turned the book over and skimmed the blurb on the back. “It looks cool,” he said, looking back up at her. “And I trust your judgement. Can I borrow it?”

She sat down again, this time on the foot of her bed, only a foot or two away from him. “Yeah, of course,” she said.

“Cool.” Wen put the book down in his lap and looking out the window. He was trying not to look at her bed too much; it looked comfortable and something in the back of his brain couldn’t quite be prevented from thinking about being in it with her, in spite of his best efforts. He was only human. Grasping for something else to talk about, he said impulsively, “Hey, you know how we always talk about going for smoothies sometime?”

“Yeah?” She seemed almost surprised, but she was smiling.

“You wanna go on Friday?” He was kind of making this up on the spot, but it _was_ something they’d been talking about for a while, and it was also something he _really_ wanted to do. “No school, so…”

Olivia smiled at him again. “Yeah, that sounds good,” she agreed, nodding. “I’d like that.”

-

Wen started kicking himself the moment she walked out of that courtyard away from him and he hadn’t stopped since. This was absolutely the opposite of what he had intended for the day; he wouldn’t have believed that it could go so utterly wrong. He couldn’t even stay angry. The anger had dissipated before she was even gone, really. Any anger left was directed entirely at himself.

He couldn’t believe he’d been so harsh with Olivia. It wasn’t fair of him. She was only telling him the truth. About halfway home he started hating himself for not chasing after her; he’d left things frayed and raw for no good reason and even worse, he realized, he had left her believing he didn’t care about Lemonade Mouth. He’d spent more than enough time with her by now to know how important the band was to her, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess what kind of impact it would have on her to believe that the feelings weren’t mutual.

He considered trying to talk to her, but no scenario he could come up with felt quite right. He couldn’t turn around and go to her house now; he had taken so long already, and it would be like prodding a fresh cut just as it started to close. Besides, he didn’t really feel like he could face her again just yet. But trying to text or call her seemed like such a half-assed way to go about it. Eventually, despite his shame, he decided that the one certain thing was that he couldn’t leave it all without at least checking to make sure she was okay. He didn’t want to admit to anyone what an ass he’d been, but he also couldn’t talk to her directly, so he texted Mo. She was, he figured, the most tactful band member, and she was also the closest to Olivia, besides himself. He just told her he’d been a jerk and asked if she could check on Olivia – was she all right? He’d apologize in another day or two, he said, but he didn’t want to step on her toes in the meantime. A few minutes later he received an angry emoticon and a _yeah, I’ll check in on her_ , and then his phone went quiet.

Wen got home and realized he felt too awful to face _anyone_ , so he went around the house and headed down the dirt drive to the barn. It had been a while since he and Zephyr had gone for a good, long run.

-

Now that everyone had made up – and god, Wen had never been so grateful for anything in his whole life – the day really seemed to catch up with them. No one besides Stella was really in their best health, and it was already late afternoon when they’d gotten into that ill-advised and adrenaline-driven spat with the movers. Everyone was tired and at this point just wanted their parents to hurry up and show.

Wen sat on the bench, leaning into the corner created by the pipe the back wall was built around. Charlie was somewhere to his right, compulsively drumming a rhythm out against his knee; Stella and Mo were sitting on the floor by the bars, talking quietly. Olivia sat next to him, leaning tiredly against him, her back against his chest and his arm tossed around her shoulder. It wasn’t only the closeness that felt good right now – he would’ve been happy about it regardless, because it was comfortable and it was contact with her – but more importantly, they were on good terms again. He’d been worrying all day about their argument, despite texts from Mo that said he should be able to patch it up just fine.

After the big group hug and everyone agreeing to play Rising Star despite the odds stacked against them, Wen had turned to Olivia and tried to apologize to her, while he had the chance and the mood was already right. She had just sighed and shaken her head and hugged him. He took it that he was forgiven, and the relief was like a tightly-wound spring uncoiling inside him until all the tension was gone. Eventually he had stepped back to sit down and she had followed, melting into him as if suddenly exhausted, and he hadn’t complained.

“I’m worried about what Gram will say,” she admitted softly, sighing.

He thought about that for a second. “I don’t think you need to be,” he told her. “Your Gram’s a pretty reasonable lady. I figure she’ll understand.”

Olivia shifted slightly, and he could tell she was anxious. With the hand that rested against her upper arm he gave her a gentle squeeze. “I guess,” she murmured. “I just… you know, what with Dad and everything…”

Suddenly he understood exactly what was bothering her. He rubbed her shoulder gently. “I think your Gram knows the difference between you and your father,” he assured her.

“I guess,” she said again.

Wen chewed his tongue for a moment, wondering how he could cheer her up. “Personally, I can’t wait to get home,” he told her casually after a little thought. “I’m going to have a lot of stories to tell Georgie.”

“Mm?” Olivia made a curious sound. Her head turned a bit, a cursory gesture as if to face him, but she was too comfortable and too tired to actually move that far.

“Yep,” he confirmed, nodding slowly. “Gonna tell her all about the enormous brawl that got me arrested, and then all about being in jail. You know… how it tore the band apart but then we had to learn to get over ourselves and make up again to survive the experience… lots of fights and drama…” Olivia started to giggle a bit, one hand over her mouth, and he smiled to himself, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. “We’ll see how dramatic the story has to get before she starts not to believe me any more.”

“Something tells me you won’t get that far,” she told him, and he could hear the grin on her voice.

“What?” Faking insult, he lifted his head again, glancing down at her. “You saying I’m not a convincing liar?”

“I’m saying Georgie’s a pretty sharp kid,” Olivia laughed. “But now that you mention it…”

“Pfft.” Wen shook his head and leaned back again, resisting the urge to pull her closer to his chest. He felt her take a deep breath and settle back against him again, and he felt disproportionately happy with his circumstances, all things considered.

-

They walked off stage at Rising Star as one single unit, everyone holding onto everyone else, even Scott. Wen had been friends with him once, way back before Scott started hanging out with Ray, and he felt a fresh swell of nostalgic affection for the guitarist, keeping one hand clamped on the other boy’s shoulder as the moved. The band was one big knot of clasped hands and baffled grins, tripping over each other’s feet as they headed backstage. They were unsurprised not to win the competition, but really the loss barely registered, all of them still floating on this strange cloud created by a huge auditorium full of people singing their song when they couldn’t perform it themselves.

Somehow or other they made their way outside again, slowly disentangling themselves and splitting off to go to their families, meeting the smiles and supportive words of their friends and fans every step of the way. Charlie went to his parents and his brother, Tommy hassling him playfully, his mother throwing her arms around him as she cried. Stella let her parents hug her close, and she couldn’t hide the look on her face when they told her how proud they were. Mo went to her parents, beaming at her father’s encouragement and admiration; Scott broke away to find his parents and explain what had happened. Wen and Olivia stood, arms still around each other’s backs, in one spot to survey the crowd for their own families. Wen spotted Gram and started to move towards her without even thinking, still attached to Olivia.

“I don’t know if I even really understand all this,” Olivia murmured disbelievingly as they stopped in their path to receive hugs and thanks from what looked like half the Shakespeare society.

Wen squeezed her shoulder. “Me neither. But I think we’re gonna be okay, Olivia.” He looked down at her, and she looked back, eyes still damp. They both smiled.

“I think so too.”

They finally made it to Gram and she hugged them both, telling them how proud she was and how much she loved the show, how exciting it was when the whole audience stood up and sang. They hugged her back, laughing.

“Wen!”

He half-turned out of Gram’s and Olivia’s embrace and saw Sydney headed for him, pulling his father behind her. She looked excited, but when she reached him she pulled up short, hesitating. Wen smiled and extracted himself from Olivia and her grandmother to pull Sydney and his dad into a hug. He had seen her, the third person to stand in the crowd, singing along to their song. Whatever reservations he’d still stubbornly maintained had crumbled then. Sydney and everything she meant for his family still made him anxious, but he couldn’t resent her any more. She really did care about him.

Eventually everyone pulled apart and Wen threw his arm loosely around Olivia’s shoulders again. It was automatic; he was still kind of in a daze and he just knew he wanted to be near his bandmates, _especially_ her. After a second he realized that his father was looking expectantly between him and Gram.

“Oh,” he said, realizing what he should be doing. “Dad, Sydney, this is Olivia’s Gram. Gram, this is my dad Jared, and his fiancée Sydney.”

“Hi, Mrs. White,” Mr. Gifford said, holding out his hand. She shook his and then Sydney’s, smiling.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said with a smile. “Wen’s such a good boy, you know, I’m so happy to meet his family.”

Olivia turned to Wen with a grin, and he glanced down at her, smiling sheepishly. He was self-conscious of how highly Gram seemed to think of him and Olivia knew it.

“Well, Olivia’s a pretty great kid too,” Mr. Gifford was laughing.

-

“Wen,” Sydney started while they ate breakfast one morning, about a week after Rising Star. “You don’t know anyone who might be looking for a kitten, do you?”

He looked up from his cereal, eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“My old roommate Kendra found a whole litter behind the dumpster at our building,” she answered around a mouthful of toast. “She took them to a vet and got all their shots and everything, but she’s trying to find homes for them before the landlord catches wind that she’s got them in the apartment. She doesn’t want to leave them at a shelter if she can help it.”

Wen looked down into his bowl, smiling slightly to himself. “The building’s over by the college, right?” he asked. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with a kitten. “Could we go see them today?”

“Yeah, probably,” she said, mildly surprised. She reached for her pocket. “I’ll text Kendra to check. How come? I didn’t think you’d want one, seeing as your dad’s not a very big fan…”

Wen shook his head. “Nah, me ‘n Georgie are still working him for a dog. But uh…” He swirled his spoon around his cereal bowl. He wasn’t really keen on telling her, but he had to explain at least a little if he wanted things to happen. Someone would have to drive him around, at very least. “I dunno, I was just thinking, it’s been a while since Olivia’s cat died and I think she really misses having her around.”

“Oh, Wen, that’s so sweet!” Sydney told him, beaming. “Yeah, we can definitely go see them. Kendra hasn’t answered yet but she’s usually pretty quick…”

“Cool.” Embarrassed now – even though Sydney didn’t seem to detect any motive beyond friendship – he finished his cereal in a rush and ran upstairs to shower and get dressed. When he came back down Sydney told him Kendra had said they were welcome any time, so they got into her car and left. Georgie was happy watching her weekend cartoons, and Wen’s dad was enjoying his first chance in a few weeks to sleep in, so it was just the two of them.

Wen was still just getting used to noticing how hard Sydney was trying to be friends with him. She detoured through a café drive-through and asked if he wanted anything; after a little friendly nudging he let her buy him a smoothie. Then, sipping her coffee, she asked him a few questions about school and the band, and when the conversation died down she turned on the radio and sang along, undeterred by his awkward silence. He appreciated it, trying to ignore the guilt he felt for being so difficult with her for so long. She glanced at him when a song came on that she knew he liked, and he figured it was the least he could do: he joined her singing along, drumming his fingers against the dashboard.

Kendra was tall and dark-skinned and as sunny a person as Wen had ever met. When Sydney told her Wen wanted to give one of the kittens to a friend who had lost a beloved cat recently, Kendra was delighted and hurried him into the second bedroom – once Sydney’s, now between occupants save for five tiny kittens sleeping in a pile on an old couch. They woke up with the arrival of company, and Wen sat on the floor with Sydney and Kendra and played with them for a while. Even if he wasn’t always a huge cat person, he couldn’t deny their charm. They were friendly and curious and he laughed while they clambered across his lap.

“I like this one,” he said after a while, stroking the little tortoiseshell that had laid down on his knee. “Kind of quiet and independent. Plays with the others when they come to see her but likes doing her own thing, too. She reminds me of Olivia a little bit.”

“Is that your friend?” Kendra asked, sharing a grin with Sydney.

Wen nodded, smiling down at the kitten, mostly oblivious to the two women. “I think she and Olivia would get along.”

“I have an old carrier you guys can use for the car,” Kendra said. “Syd can just bring it back to me later, yeah?”

“Of course,” Sydney agreed with a nod. She turned to Wen. “Do you know if Olivia’s home? Do you want to go straight over to her place?”

“She’s usually home,” he answered. “Yeah, let’s go right there.” The more he thought about it the more his smile grew.

Wen rode with the carrier in his lap, having trouble keeping the smile off his face as they drove. He directed Sydney towards Olivia’s house, and finally they pulled into the driveway. He looked down and opened the crate, reaching in.

“You’re not going to take the whole thing?” Sydney asked with a trace of amusement.

He looked up in surprise. “I don’t know, I just… liked the idea of just _handing_ Olivia a kitten,” he admitted, a little sheepish now.

Sydney regarded him for a moment and then broke into a smile. “You know, if I had ever met a boy who would hand-deliver me a kitten just because, I would never have gotten around to dating your father.” Watching her face, Wen realized that Sydney was not in fact unaware of his motivations. He looked down into the carrier in embarrassment as the kitten rubbed her head against his fingers. For a moment he wracked his brain for a response, and then Sydney laughed gently. “Go on, Wen. We can’t sit here all day.”

“Yeah.” He blinked hard and shook his head, then scooped up the kitten and got out of Sydney’s little car. After knocking on Olivia’s door he impulsively hid the kitten behind his back. It would be fun to surprise her.

Ten minutes later he ran down the driveway and knocked on the window of Sydney’s car. “Hey, I’m gonna stick around here for a little while, if that’s cool,” he told her when she rolled it down.

“Of course, Wen,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll let your dad know. Just text one of us if you need a ride home. Have a good afternoon.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said. He started to stand up, then bent down to the window again. “Hey, Sydney. Thanks.”

Her smile broadened. “No problem.”

-

Not everything about the wedding was really Wen’s style, but he kept a smile on for his dad. Even if a little part of him was still despairing at the new level of finality this gave his parents’ divorce – which, really, he had never quite come to terms with – he locked that away and let himself enjoy the day. After all, this was a celebration. Everyone around him was having fun and so should he.

Besides, it was hard not to see how happy his father was.

As best man, he was obliged to give a toast. That had been a weird idea to get his head around for a long time. In the end, he’d finally written it with help from both Olivia and his grandfather. A strange collaboration to be sure, but it turned out well; he spied a few wet eyes in the audience, his dad among them. Georgie gave a speech as well – shorter than his, and written with help from both grandparents, but heartfelt and sweet. Wen looked out into the crowd while she spoke, and spotted Olivia watching him with a smile from her table with the rest of their friends. She gave him a little thumbs-up, and he grinned down at the table.

After the dinner was when the real fun started, as far as Wen was concerned. After a little bit of mingling, accepting compliments on his toast and hugs from distant friends and family he hadn’t seen in years, he managed to make his way over to the band. Stella couldn’t shut up about Mel and all the ideas she had to pitch to him. (It wasn’t until weeks later that Wen found out his father, knowing full well the significance of Mel’s Lemonade to the band, had seated Mel and Stella together intentionally, and was planning on introducing them formally later if they didn’t get to talking on their own.) She had to be reminded they had important plans before she willingly stopped talking.

And then they got to take the stage. Jared and Sydney had asked them to play the reception. Just a few songs and then a more traditional band, because of course the kids would want to enjoy the wedding as well, but if they were up for it… and of course they were. Wen and Olivia had gotten busy right away writing a song just for the occasion, and they were immensely proud of the eventual result. Having another guitarist, they discovered – since this was the first song they’d ever written with Scott in mind – gave them that much more room for creativity. And ever since More Than A Band, Olivia had been pestering Wen to sing more instead of just rapping, and this was the perfect opportunity. It didn’t take too much for her to persuade him, really; the song ended up a duet between the two of them.

They were incredible.

Everyone thought so. It was the first dance, so only the bride and groom were on the floor. They hadn’t heard the song yet – no one outside of the band and a select few friends had – and in the second verse Wen and Olivia exchanged proud glances after seeing Sydney reach up to wipe her eyes, smiling into her husband’s shoulder.

After that they played a few more songs, the dance floor flooding with wedding guests. As always, the band loved performing and the crowd found the energy irresistible. At the end of their twenty-minute set, Wen took the mic again to congratulate the newlyweds once more, calling for a round of applause. And finally they were able to leave the stage and rejoin the crowd as a more conventional wedding band took over.

Wen’s grandmother caught his attention as he re-emerged onto the dance floor. “You’ll save a dance for me, won’t you, sweetheart?” she asked brightly. “I want to make sure you remember everything we taught you.”

“Of course, Nan,” he told her with a smile. He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the band, clustered some fifteen feet away and some of them watching him, then turned back and asked her, “Uh, do you wanna dance now?”

“Oh, no,” she answered, patting his hand. “I have to wear out your grandfather first. Besides, I think your first dance belongs to that young lady you were singing with.” She winked at him and nodded towards the others. He glanced back again and saw Olivia turn away quickly, smiling at the floor.

For a second he was embarrassed, but then he thought to himself, _everyone seems to know, anyway_. Besides, this was his grandmother. Maybe the only person he’d ever told more secrets to than her was his horse. “Nah,” he told his Nan with a grin, cheeks a little red. “If I remember _everything_ you taught me, first dance doesn’t matter _that_ much. That’s my last dance over there, Nan.”

His grandmother grinned broadly. “Some rules do say _first and_ last dances to your escort, you know,” she reminded him.

“I’m not really her escort, Nan,” he replied, amused.

Now she outright laughed. “Well, if you want to dance with that girl at all, you better get over there soon,” she told him. “Your cousin Jack has been eyeing her from across the room since you got off the stage!”

“Nan!” Wen admonished, still smiling. “You could have said something sooner.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek and returned to his friends. Stella had broken away to go find Mel again, and Victoria had pulled Charlie onto the dance floor. It seemed he still didn’t know what he was doing; he tossed occasional desperate glances over at the others, clearly concerned. Mo was laughing.

“You should have paid attention when I tried to teach you!” she called to him. He grimaced.

Scott was watching past Wen’s shoulder as Wen’s grandmother returned to his grandfather and they went to the dance floor again. “Those are your grandparents, right, Wen?” he asked, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Wen answered, glancing back at them. “Nan’s name is Daisy, Pops is Jackson.”

“Maybe we should lend Charlie to them for a few minutes,” Scott suggested. “They’re tearin’ it up out there.”

Wen nodded, grinning. “Any chance to dance. You should’ve seen them at their fiftieth anniversary last year.”

“It was them that taught you, right?” Olivia asked, watching them.

“Yep.” He nodded. He hesitated for a second, but it seemed as good an opportunity as any. “I haven’t practiced an awful lot in the last few years, but I figure I’m still pretty good. You wanna find out?” He offered her a hand.

She broke into a huge smile. “Sure.”

Wen led her onto the floor, only partially aware of Scott and Mo following a moment later. As they walked he’d finally spotted his cousin watching them from the buffet, and he suddenly felt just a little possessive. Jack was three years their senior, but if Wen had learned anything about him over the years, it was that if he could get a pretty girl’s attention, he’d monopolize it for as long as he could. Wen didn’t really think Olivia would fall prey to Jack’s shallow charms, nor that she would willingly ignore him all evening in favour of someone she’d just met, but all the same he worried slightly. He knew that etiquette stated that she should set the distance between them, since he was leading, but he couldn’t help himself from pulling her in a little. At any rate, she didn’t complain.

He put Jack out of his mind. He was dancing with Olivia at his father’s wedding and that was something that deserved to be enjoyed in it its entirety, uninterrupted by such petty concerns. “How’s your evening going?” he asked her, grinning.

She smiled up at him. “It’s pretty great,” she told him. “I’m having fun. And I like your family. Everyone’s been so kind.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “They’re a pretty good bunch. I like Syd’s parents, too. They’ve been pretty cool. Georgie loves them already.”

“They seem nice,” Olivia said with a nod. “I haven’t spoken to them.”

Wen shrugged a little. “I hadn’t met them before yesterday,” he explained. “But they brought us gifts – I guess they must’ve asked Dad and Sydney what to buy because they were pretty good – and told us we could call them Grandma and Grandpa, but only if we want to.”

Olivia laughed as he spun her around playfully, then put a hand on his shoulder when he brought her back in close. “Are you going to?” she asked curiously.

“Not sure yet,” he told her honestly. “I guess I’m not totally against it. But it would be something to get used to.” She nodded thoughtfully, and he watched her for a second as she looked out at the other dancers. It occurred to him again that she didn’t have any family left besides her Gram and her dad. “You know, if you ever get a hankering for a good old-fashioned family get-together, you’re always welcome to mine. I’ve got family to spare. And I know they’ll all love you. You’ve barely spoken to Nan yet and she adores you.”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Well, I did sit with your grandparents during the service. We talked a little bit. I like them a lot.”

“I’m glad,” Wen said, grinning. “I thought you would. They’re pretty great. I spent a lot of time with them as a kid.”

“And thanks.” She hesitated briefly, then leaned her head against his chest and squeezed his shoulder, what passed for a hug on the dance floor. “You’re really sweet, Wen. And I appreciate you being willing to share your family with me.”

“Of course,” he murmured back, trying not to smile too big as he put his chin on top of her head. They danced like that for the last thirty seconds or so of the song, spinning slowly by the corner of the dance floor.

He pulled her off the floor at the end of the song, and they went to stand next to Scott and Mo, letting go of each other slowly. Wen shared a smile with the other two. “Dance etiquette states that you should dance with a variety of partners throughout the evening,” he explained, looking a little amused. “That in mind, Mo…?” He held out his hand. If he was really following his grandparents’ rules to the letter, he would have asked Scott if it was all right, but he knew Mo would chew him out for that. Besides, Scott wouldn’t mind.

“Of course,” Mo answered with a smile, taking his hand. As they headed onto the floor, Scott turned to Olivia and offered her his arm with a silly grin.

“Sure,” she agreed, laughing.

Over the course of the evening the band did a lot of dancing. Stella spent more of her time off the floor than on, chatting with Mel and no doubt getting too ambitious for her own good; when she did dance it was by herself or with Olivia, Mo, Victoria, or some combination thereof. Wen, Scott, and Charlie rotated amongst Olivia, Mo, and Victoria most of the time, and Olivia and Mo tried to help Charlie refine his dancing enough to at least stop stepping on Victoria’s feet by the time he got back to her. Sometimes Wen’s relatives – or, less often, Sydney’s – cut in, but most of them were a fair bit older and tended to leave the teens to themselves. Jack cut in a few times, though he couldn’t seem to maintain any of the girls’ attention (much to his frustration, and Wen’s amusement), and Sydney’s 20-year-old brother Dustin danced politely with them a few times, clearly a little bit lost in a crowd that was mostly significantly older or younger than himself. Mostly, actually, he danced with Georgie, who seemed to be young enough for him to feel fairly comfortable with instead of just awkward.

When Wen finally got around to dancing with his Nan, his grandfather approached Olivia and asked her with a friendly smile to join him. She accepted, and had a lot of fun; both Daisy and Jackson seemed utterly tireless. They were funny, too, and in the end the whole band (save for Stella) danced with one or the other of them, if not both. No matter who he was dancing with, though, Wen couldn’t help watching the floor for Olivia, catching her eye and smiling whenever they were near each other. Between songs, if a new dance partner wasn’t immediately present, he always gravitated back to her, whether to dance or to go rest for a while.

The evening wound down all too soon. Some of the newlyweds’ friends and family opted to leave a little earlier than others; by around midnight not many people were left. The band finished around eleven and since then they’d just been playing music off of Jared’s iPod. Charlie had gone to take Victoria home, and Georgie – when she finally tired out – somehow persuaded Dustin to come inside the house and put her to bed. (He was her new favourite uncle, she confessed to Wen when he danced with her. He laughed and pointed out they only had three to choose from.) Wen’s grandparents were taking more frequent rests, but they weren’t entirely worn out yet. Scott and Mo were still on the floor, as well as a handful of other guests, mostly younger ones.

Wen sat down next to Olivia at a small table, holding a plate with a big slice of the cake. They’d all had some earlier, but it had been hours and he was hungry again. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, passing her a fork.

She grinned. “Hey,” she said back, reaching across and taking a bite as he placed the plate between them. “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” he answered. After a second’s thought, watching her face, he amended, “Really good. You?”

She ran a hand back through her hair. At some point she’d taken it out of its neat up-do and let it fall around her shoulders. “Me too,” she said. “Tonight’s been wonderful. Thank you.”

“Thank my dad,” he chuckled, swallowing a bite.

Olivia shook her head, smile growing. “No, I don’t mean… The wedding’s been wonderful, and I _will_ thank your dad for having us.” She was looking at the tablecloth. “But I was thanking you because I’ve had a really good time with you tonight.”

“Oh.” Wen paused, fidgeting with his fork as an enormous smile broke across his face. He tried half-heartedly to hide it by taking another large bite of the cake, but it didn’t fade in the slightest. “You’re welcome.”

She glanced at him quickly, then back down at the table, biting down on a little grin. They were both quiet for a moment, and then Wen pushed the plate an inch or so closer to her. She laughed lightly and took the hint. For a few minutes they ate in contented silence. Wen quietly divided the last little bit into two equal pieces, and they shared a smile as they finished the slice together.

“Okay, everyone,” Wen’s dad called out to anyone left in the tent, standing by the table where his iPod was connected to the speakers. “Last song. We’re getting tired over here.” He was smiling as he made his selection.

Wen looked at Olivia and held out his hand, eyebrows raised. She took it without hesitation and they walked wordlessly onto the floor. Jared picked a slower song, sweet and familiar, and Wen felt warm as Olivia’s hand shifted in his, the other going to his shoulder, his to her hip. She was smiling at him and he couldn’t hide the way it made him feel. He knew the grin on his face was big and probably goofy and for a second he looked at the floor, laughing at himself, but his gaze inevitably went back to her face. Now she was laughing a little too, and he thought for what seemed like the millionth time since last October how much he’d like to kiss her. He really considered it for a second or two, pulling her just a little closer by the waist, but he couldn’t quite convince himself this was the time. There were still a dozen or so other people around, including both strangers and his immediate family, and he was worried what that might do to her nerves.

Interrupting his train of thought, Olivia got up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He froze, and it took a second or two for his brain to reboot. By the time he could react, she had already dropped back down onto the soles of her feet and leaned into his chest, where he couldn’t quite see her face. Easing himself back into the slow sway of the dance, he rested his chin on her head like he’d done earlier, still processing. If the grin on his face a moment ago had been goofy, he knew by now it must be absolutely stupid, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. As they spun gently, he caught sight of Stella, sitting in the corner with her feet propped up on a second chair, the grin she was wearing as she watched him somewhere between completely wicked and utterly delighted. He felt his cheeks redden slightly, though his smile didn’t change at all. They spun further and he caught Scott and Mo smiling at him as well, and he wondered briefly if he was going to have to deal with _everyone_ having seen that, but luckily no one else seemed to be looking their way.

Wen closed his eyes and leaned his face downwards, hiding his smile in her hair a little bit and letting himself enjoy the rest of the dance.

-

The construction on the new music hall seemed to have gone ridiculously fast. Everyone was impressed that it was ready for its grand opening before the end of the school year. Once the crowd cleared out – and, of course, with the blessing of Miss Reznick – the band decided to christen the stage with their first band practice there. Scott was missing for an away game, but that was okay. They liked him, but they were still getting used to his presence in the band. Something felt kind of right about it being just the five of them for this. The music hall was a symbol of everything they’d been working for since the start, and playing there felt like such an enormous achievement.

They started with a few of their old favourites and then moved into some of the newer material they’d been working on. Like always, Wen could barely keep his eyes off Olivia while she sang. It had been months and she was no less enchanting to him. His favourite moments were always those when she came over to the piano and danced with him there, or when he grabbed the mic for a rap and had an excuse to hop around the stage with her. When they played for an audience he made a point of facing them, but when it was just the band there was nothing to stop him from watching her the whole time. He knew the others could see what he was doing, but frankly at this point he didn’t much care any more.

He just liked how it felt when they sang to each other like no one else was around.

After about forty minutes they took a break, and Olivia came to sit with him on the piano bench. She rested her notebook on the music stand, open to the last song they’d started writing, so she could show him the idea she’d been toying with for the melody. She leaned across him slightly to reach the keys on the left and he watched her wonderingly, momentarily consumed by how much he adored her. Finally he came back to his senses as she played a few notes and then glanced at him over her shoulder, only inches away, smiling.

“What do you think?” she asked him. “I’m not sure it’s quite there, but I thought you’d be able to help me get it right.”

He nodded, still smiling at her, part of him wondering how much of his utter amazement was showing on his face. “I like it,” he told her, hands poised over the keys. “But yeah, it’s not quite where we need it to be, I think you’re right. What if we…?” He replayed her tune, changing a few notes and adding a few more, giving it a little more nuance. “And then we could even increase the tempo a tiny bit, make it a little peppier…” He played his version again, a little faster.

“Wen, that’s _perfect_ ,” she said, beaming. “I knew you’d nail it.”

He grinned down at his hands. “Hey, you still gave me the bones. It’s a team effort.”

They were interrupted when Stella gave a little shout, dropped her phone, swore loudly, and dove to scoop it back up. “ _Guys,_ ” she squawked.

“What’s going on?” Mo turned away from her conversation with Charlie and stepped closer to Stella. Charlie got up and joined them; Wen and Olivia exchanged glances and got to their feet as well, drawing closer.

Stella was practically vibrating. “I just got an email from Kathy,” she said. Kathy was the agent who had approached them a while after Rising Star, certain that they would have won if they’d been in better shape that day and that she could find them a contract. “She got us a deal.” Hands went to shocked mouths as everyone tried to process that information. “Wait, that’s not even everything,” Stella said quickly, before they could start talking. Her hands were shaking. “Obviously there are arrangements to be made and people we’ll have to talk to. But they’re talking about the possibility of sending us on tour to promote our first album.”

There was a moment of silence. “No way,” Charlie said eventually. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m so not,” Stella said, shaking her head as she held out her phone so he could read the email.

A grin spread across his face as he read. “No _way_ ,” he said again.

“Oh my god,” Mo squeaked. “I have to call Scott.” She turned and walked to the other side of the stage, pulling her phone out of her sweater pocket.

Wen turned to Olivia, beaming. Operating on impulse, he scooped her up and whirled her around. “We did it!” he cried excitedly.

She put her arms around his neck, laughing and leaning into him. “We did it!” she agreed as he came to a stop, hugging her close without quite putting her down, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He didn’t _want_ to put her down, really.

Olivia smiled into Wen’s hair for a moment. “We have so much writing to do,” she said softly, smiling at the thought. Finally Wen loosened his grip and let her down gently so he could look at her again; she relaxed her arms around his neck but didn’t quite let go, so neither did he.

“I can’t wait,” he told her truthfully. He loved their writing sessions and all the time it meant he got to spend alone with her. He shifted his hands on her waist for a second, unable to take the smile off his face. She was right in front of him there, smiling and excited and holding onto him, and he couldn’t stop staring.

“Can we go get celebration pizza?” Charlie asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I really want to get celebration pizza.”

“You always want to get pizza,” Stella teased him.

“I could do pizza,” Wen admitted, tearing his eyes off of Olivia and looking back up at the others.

Mo came back to the group, phone in hand. “Pizza sounds like a great idea,” she said, grinning. “Also, Scott’s super excited. He’s on his way home now, he could probably meet us at Dante’s in a bit.”

“I’d like pizza. I just have to go call Gram and let her know,” Olivia agreed. “One second.” Finally she pulled away from Wen, apparently a little reluctantly. She took the stairs down at the far side of the stage and went to her bag, dumped earlier in one of the front-row seats of the auditorium.

Wen was watching her, but his attention was diverted when Stella punched him in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?” he complained.

Stella raised her eyebrows at him pointedly. “When are you gonna kiss her?” she demanded, not quietly. “Because that _really would have been the perfect time_.”

Wen’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he automatically reached up and clamped a hand over Stella’s mouth. Behind her, Mo and Charlie turned away, trying to hide their laughter. “What are you talking about?” he hissed, voice high. He had thought he was comfortable with his friends being aware of his feelings, but this was a little much.

Stella smacked his hand away, crossing her arms and giving him a sceptical look. “Gifford, I have watched you _not kiss_ that girl way too many times in the last six months, but this time I really thought you were gonna for a second. Stop wasting so much damn time.”

-

Everything seemed to go so fast. After the contract was signed, Wen and Olivia’s weekly writing sessions increased to every two or three days, about half of them joined by other band members. The band was starting to rehearse a new song every week or so, it seemed like. Studio time was booked for May, during which they would record a few singles, and August, when they would finish the album. And by mid-June, they were on the road.

Concerts were almost every night, with one or two days off each week. When they weren’t driving to the next city they were often in sound checks or interviews or choreography refreshers. The days off when they actually got their own free time were the most fun. All of the time spent driving meant the band was crammed into the tour bus together, goofing off and watching movies, so on free days they often split up. It wasn’t uncommon for Scott and Mo to go for some shopping and a date if they could get away from Mr. Banjaree – the self-imposed chaperone for the tour – for the day, in which case Stella and Charlie would go off in search of the city’s best and most outrageous food. If Mr. Banjaree insisted on supervising, Stella and Mo would go adventuring together, sometimes joined by Olivia, and Scott and Charlie and sometimes Wen would go their own way, looking for arcades or record stores to raid.

Frequently, though – since Mr. Banjaree’s rulings didn’t really affect them either way – Olivia and Wen ended up spending the day together, exploring each new city with excitement. Olivia led Wen into stationery stores to look at notebooks or used book stores or anywhere with plants in the windows; Wen liked pawn shops and getting local food when they needed meals. Both of them enjoyed music stores and silly touristy shops where they could buy postcards to send home. One afternoon in Sacramento they even went to see a movie on impulse.

It was only the second time they spent a day off together that Wen found himself holding Olivia’s hand and couldn’t remember which one of them initiated it or how long ago. But it felt good, and it didn’t seem like she minded. There was really no harm. They didn’t even usually get followed by cameras or recognized very often when they were out on their own – it didn’t take long for the band to notice that if they split up, it was Mo and Scott that were most likely to be spotted and photographed. Their rumoured romance, it turned out, sold well in the tabloids. Mo could only thank her lucky stars that neither of her parents would read, let alone put any stock in, the kinds of magazines those photos showed up in.

Holding hands while exploring just became something that Wen and Olivia did sometimes. So did their quiet dinners together, tucked into the corner booth of some nondescript little diner, laughing over deliciously greasy food. Sometimes Wen walked with his arm around Olivia’s shoulders, and sometimes they paid for each other’s ice cream, just because. They spent so much time shopping together that when they spent their free days with the others instead of each other, they ended up buying each other little gifts when they spotted things they knew the other would like. One day when Wen was with Scott and Charlie in a mall in Salt Lake City, Charlie looking for a birthday gift to send home to his mom and Scott in search of some new shirts, Wen stopped next to a store’s display window to take a photo of a dress on a mannequin. Scott and Charlie didn’t even tease him much as he texted the picture to Olivia, captioned, _this really made me think of you._ A minute later he received an excited response asking where it was; when the whole band met up for dinner that evening, she was wearing it.

“Thank you!” she told him, beaming as she spun around to show the boys how it looked. “It’s perfect!”

“I have never seen her fall in love with a dress so fast,” Mo added. “You have a good eye, Wen.”

He grinned, hardly even embarrassed. “You look great, Olivia.”

All that said, he was still taken aback somehow when she said in that interview that they were ‘dating-ish.’ He’d been hoping whatever was going on was something like that, but really not sure what she thought of their relationship. Certainly he hadn’t expected an answer in such a public setting. Those few minutes had been such a roller coaster: the utter bafflement when everyone thought for a moment that she meant that she was dating Scott, the total shock when she said “me and Wen,” the explosion of butterflies when he got to say “she’s my girl” out loud and take her hand. He barely got his head straight in time for their performance, and he couldn’t resist kissing her hand when the opportunity presented itself mid-song.

He didn’t manage to get her alone for hours afterwards. The whole band went straight from the interview to dinner, where he sat with her and she took his hand under the table when they weren’t eating. The meal seemed interminably long. Finally they left the restaurant and went back to the tour bus, and Wen finally had a chance to pull Olivia aside. There wasn’t a lot of fully private space on the bus except for individual bunks, so he led her by the hand down to the far end while the rest of the band politely stayed up at the front.

For a moment they just stood there, smiling shyly at each other, hands still linked. After a moment Wen started to laugh at himself. “Hey,” he started lamely.

“Hey,” Olivia answered quietly, smiling.

“So all that, back there—” he looked down at their hands. She’d reached for him at dinner. Surely that meant she’d meant it, right? “That’s– you know– we’re calling it official?”

She bit down on a grin, clearly just as nervous as he was. “I mean, yeah, if you want to?”

Wen let out a long, deep breath, reaching for her other hand. The smile on his face was equal parts relieved and excited. “Man, I’ve just – I’ve liked you for a really long time, but I didn’t want to rush you…”

He met her eye again and she was beaming. “Not as long as I’ve liked you,” she challenged.

He frowned slightly. “Months,” he told her.

Olivia’s grin only grew. “Years,” she countered.

“Oh,” he said softly, surprised and a little puzzled. “But we didn’t… we barely knew each other.”

“I know,” she answered, looking down at the floor self-consciously. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t _like_ you. We’ve known each other _a little bit_ since kindergarten, Wen. I always knew you were nice. And then we worked together once in middle school, and I just…”

“Oh,” Wen said again. He thought back to that seventh-grade history project, something he’d barely considered in months. He supposed they had gotten along well, and certainly the fact that she had recently become very cute at the time didn’t do any harm. “I was probably extra nice because you were pretty,” he admitted.

She bit her lip again, trying to hide her smile. Suddenly Wen was overwhelmed by the same urge that he’d fought off at least a thousand times in the last eight months, and it occurred to him that this time it probably wasn’t so objectionable. “Hey, Olivia?” he asked, smiling.

She looked up at him again as he let go of one of her hands, crooking one finger gently under her chin to raise her face as he leaned down and kissed her. For a second she froze, but then he felt her hand rest lightly against his jaw and cheek. Something deep in his stomach exploded, a rush of excitement flooding his system as he finally pulled away, in no particular hurry. She was smiling at him, the biggest smile he thought he might have ever seen, and it was impossible not to return it.

There was a short silence as they stood there, grinning at each other.  He dropped her other hand and rested his hands on her waist, unable to resist pulling her a little closer; she lowered her head for a moment, hiding another self-conscious, excited little smile, then reached her arms up over his shoulders, meeting his eye again.

“I really like this,” Wen breathed.

“Me too,” Olivia agreed. Then, her grin immutable, she bounced up on her toes to kiss him again. Kissing and smiling at the same time proved a little tricky, but neither of them seemed to be able to stop either. He wrapped his arms around her back and smiled into her as she sank back down onto her feet, both of them stealing kisses between grins and never quite separating.

They were finally interrupted by Stella’s whoop from the far end of the bus. Laughing and embarrassed, Wen and Olivia looked up, arms still around each other, to see their band members watching them from the other end of the long aisle.

“’Bout time, Gifford!” Stella cheered.

“Aww,” Charlie added, genuinely happy.

“Sorry,” Mo told them, though she was grinning, just like the others. “Stella just couldn’t resist peeking any longer.”

“Neither could you,” Stella teased, elbowing her. Looking up again, she said, “Good job, kids. Took you long enough.”

“You’re younger than either of us, Stella,” Olivia laughed.

Stella put her fists on her hips. “Who cares? You two are finally making out after eight months of mooning and that’s all that matters.”

Olivia buried her face in Wen’s chest, and he laughed. “You guys feel like giving us another minute?”

“ _One_ minute,” Stella agreed, holding up her index finger. “Then you gotta get your butts up here or you have no say in what movie we’re watching tonight.” She and the others turned back around.

Wen shifted to lift Olivia’s face to look at him again. “You good?” he asked, only a little bit teasing.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Really good, if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, me too,” he told her. “Listen, the day after tomorrow is the last whole day off of the tour. You wanna go out for a real date? No -ish about it?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “That sounds really nice.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “It’s a plan, then.” He kissed her again, quickly and sweetly.

Taking a moment to collect themselves and try – unsuccessfully – to wipe the offensively big grins from their faces, Wen and Olivia took each other’s hands once again and went to join their friends.

“By the way,” Scott pointed out casually as they sat down. “I don’t know if you guys have checked your phones in the last couple of hours, but it might not be a bad idea to give your folks a call.”

“Why?” Olivia asked, frowning.

Stella cracked a wicked grin. “Because that interview was live, and as I understand it, _all_ of our families were watching.”


End file.
